Promises
by hootowl
Summary: "He knew not to make promises he couldn't keep. Tomorrow she'd fix his automail. Tomorrow she'd see him on his way with a smile and a wave." Set after the Northern Briggs when Ed meets up with Winry again. Oneshot


**Promises**

"Take it off!"

"What? No!"

"Edward Elric, if you don't strip right this instant, I'll make you."

"My automail's fine, Winry. I've been taking it—hey! Stop!"

"I _told_ you to take it _off_!"

They toppled with a crash, Winry cushioned by Edward. His breath rushed from his lungs with a pained _oopmh!_

"Ed!"

She reached for his belt and Edward barely suppressed a girlish squeak, his hands scrambling to stop hers. "You can't just rip my clothes off, Win!"

She wrenched her hands from his, sitting back on his thighs and putting her fists on her hips as her blue eyes narrowed down at him. "I don't see what your problem is, Ed," she grumped. "I've seen you undressed before."

"When I was _twelve_. I'm not a kid any more."

Her eyes rolled. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Gold eyes bulged. "W-what?"

She scowled as if he was deliberately being stupid but her cheeks still pinked. "I want to check your automail and the longer you fight me, the longer you have to wait before you can run off and break it again."

Edward didn't seem to hear her, still staring with something akin to horror. Tired of waiting for him to move on his own, Winry reached for his black tank again, grasping the hem and swiftly pulling it upward. The shirt caught under his arms—he certainly hadn't moved to help her—and her gaze fell to his exposed torso. Fabric slipped from numb fingers and her mouth dropped open. He _hadn't_ been lying. His boyish frame had filled out, taunt skin covering lean muscle, but it wasn't his newly exposed physic that caused her to stare. No, her eyes were drawn to an angry red scar that spread across his stomach like a starburst. Her fingers dropped to his chest, feeling his heart skip and hearing his sharp gasp of breath. Edward suddenly seemed to realize she was gazing upon exposed flesh. His hands flew to his shirt, tugging it down only to be stop by her hand. She caught the shirt in one hand, her other hovering over the scar, afraid to touch.

"Win?"

His voice snapped her from her trance and she jerked back as if burned, blue eyes darting to meet gold. He winced at the horror he saw in her expression and let his head fall back to the wood floor so he could stare at the ceiling. Maybe he could pretend this wasn't happening. Pretend she hadn't seen.

"What happened?"

Her words sounded fragile, like she was about to cry. He closed his eyes, trying to block out his surroundings. He hadn't wanted her to find out. Of course some distant part of him laughed at that, but still, he hadn't wanted her to find out this soon. Like this. She pushed at his hands again, exposing his stomach and he felt the faintest touch around the edge of the scar. "It looks like a burn. Kind of."

He risked a glance down his body at her to see her leaning forward, scrutinizing the injury. "It's not. At least, not really."

She met his look and repeated, "What happened?"

"I," he faltered, the words stuttering to a stop. She waited patiently and he sighed, speaking in a distant voice. "At the Northern Brig—when I went after Kimbley—there was an...explosion. A rod—"

A sharp gasp interrupted him and Winry's face filled his vision. Her fingers tugged insistently at his shirt. "Sit up."

It was a demand and her pulls forced his protesting, newly healed stomach muscles to comply. He unsuccessfully hid his grunt of pain, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when he stopped moving. Winry pulled on the shirt again and he reluctantly lifted his arms to let her pull it completely over his head. She dropped it to the side and her trembling hand returned to the scar. His muscles twitched at her touch and she looked up at him. "A rod?"

He nodded, unable to say anything as her hand drifted around his side, seeking the matching scar on his back that she couldn't see. Her breath hitched when she found it and Edward let his head drop to her shoulder so he wouldn't see the glassy sheen of tears in her eyes. "It went _through_ you?"

He could still hear the tears in her voice. "_Please _don't cry."

She pulled away, forcing him to look at her. She wasn't crying. At least, not yet. "You could have _died_!"

His mouth opened to tell her it was a near thing, but he quickly came to his senses and tried an arrogant smirk. "But I didn't."

Her lips thinned angrily and for the briefest of moments Edward thought she'd pull out a wrench and let him have it, but then her expression crumbled. She stood abruptly, holding her hand down to help him stand, ignoring his stunned look. He rose slowly to his feet, trying—and failing—to hide his wince. Her eyes narrowed but she said nothing, taking his hand and pulling him toward the bed. Again, she commanded, "Sit."

Dumbly, he sank to the edge of the mattress, watching as she moved off to find various tools. She returned to him, kneeling on the mattress as she tuned his shoulder. He could tell she was angry but was at a loss over what. She wasn't yelling or throwing tools. She worked in stoney silence. It was almost more terrifying than her outright violence. Violence was how she acted when angry from the time she was a girl. He was used to it. He could deal with it. Only, he watched her work, she was no longer a girl. It was almost relief when she made an angry growl and threw her tools to the floor. He readied a biting retort only for it to vanish in smoke as she pushed him flat on his back and swung her leg over his hips, kneeling to glare into wide, gold eyes. "Edward Elric, you will not get yourself killed in this damn war!"

He could only stare up at her in shock as her expression crumpled slightly. He was bound to stay in a perpetual state of shock for the entire night at this rate. Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him in place. "Promise me you'll come back alive."

"I'll try."

Her grip tightened painfully. "_Promise me_."

His hands closed around her wrists to keep her from yanking too hard and her head dropped to rest against her collarbone, her voice a broken whisper, "Please."

Edward released one of her wrists, smoothing his hand over her hair and down her back before letting it drop over her waist in an awkward hug. He stared up at the dark ceiling, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. This was why he didn't want to see her again before the end. It was too painful to say goodbye when it might mean forever. He hated goodbyes. He sighed and closed his eyes. "I promise to do my best to stay alive."

Winry sagged into him knowing that was the best she could hope for. He knew not to make promises he couldn't keep. Tomorrow she'd fix his automail. Tomorrow she'd see him on his way with a smile and a wave. Tomorrow she'd close the door after his departure and allow the tears to fall where he couldn't see. But for now, she'd hang onto this moment. She'd cling to this moment because he was alive and she promised herself she would be there for him at the end.

* * *

AN: Well, I've had this for about a year now. Didn't plan on posting, but after looking over it again, I thought, "Why not?" I tacked about 200 words to the end to give it a more complete feel. I'm sure this has been done hundreds of times. And I don't plan on any more FMA fics.


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